| I’m fit and working again
|
| Walk down the road in the sun
|
| I make a path through a forty strong gang
|
| I’m fit and working again
|
| My sick, think I’ve seen the tail end
|
| I’m fit and working again
|
| I used to hang like a chandelier
|
| My lungs encrusted in blood
|
| But the flex is now cut clear
|
| I’m fit and working, dear
|
| Took me ten years to write this song
|
| I’m fit and working again
|
| I used to think this bog was the domain
|
| Opinion is at most
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| One stimulus reason
|
| If you’ve got the most
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| With the true precis
|
| Analysis is academic
|
| Some thoughts can get nauseous
|
| Sat opposite a freak on a train
|
| Warts on his head and chin
|
| Boy, was I getting so vain
|
| I saw the recession around Victoria Station
|
| I’m fit and working again
|
| Gimme the sun
|
| I’m fit and working again
|
| And I feel like Alan Minter*
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| I just ate eight sheets of blotting paper
|
| And I chucked out the Alka Seltzer
|
| Cause I’m fit and working again…
|
| Don’t you know that was the tail end |